


Control

by winks7985



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-09
Updated: 2011-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:16:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winks7985/pseuds/winks7985
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pure smut... contains explicit het sex.  Winner of 2010 Ezzie Award.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

She likes to bite.  Not hard, not in a possessive, domineering way.  But in that way to confuse the nerves… pleasure or pain?  Maybe a little bit of both.

She likes to be bitten.  Gently, not to hurt.  To arrest the pleasure, confuse it for a moment with pain.  The two are so closely related.

He traces the line of her jaw with his mouth.  Then the neck.  He nips gently as he reaches the base.

Her breath hitches.

He smiles.

Her blouse has been worked open, and he feels her breasts through the lace.  He kisses the hollow of her throat as he pulls the lace cups down and frees her bosom within.  She says nothing.  She’s not one of those.

His lips continue to trail down her breastbone.  Slowly.  Torturous. Her flesh starts to prickle with goosebumps.

Good.  He smiles.

His mouth finds her nipple, and gives it due attention.  She writhes under him.  He bites her.  Gently. 

She gasps.  Then she sighs… a small noise in the back of her throat signifying her pleasure.  Her approval.

He moves to the other side, repeating his performance. 

As he lavishes attention on her nipples, his hand find the clasp of her pants.  He undoes the fastening, and the button.  He sits back on his feet and looks at this woman splayed before him.  She looks so… disheveled.  A smile plays on his lips, his gold tooth catching the dim light of the room.  She smiles dazedly back up at him.  He reaches for her foot, bringing it up near his face, and slowly removes her shoe.  He kisses the arch of her foot.  She sighs happily. 

He gently lowers that foot, and clasps the other, repeating the process. 

He reaches for her loosened trousers, and gently removes them.  They slide off her creamy skin as though made of silk.  She is clad now only in lace.

He throbs within his own slacks.  Easy now.  It’s about control.

She reaches up and starts to undo his buttons on his shirt, freeing it from his slacks.  He arrests her progress.  This is about her for now.  He can wait.

Control.

He reaches for her foot again, this time taking it to his mouth and kissing a trail along her arch to her ankle, her ankle to her knee.  The trail of kisses moves up her thigh, pausing at the lace.  He blows a breath onto the lace, then moves on to her hip.  She moans in discontent.  Then he slides the side of lace covering her hip down, freeing the creamy flesh underneath.  He bites her again.  She moans again, this time in pleasure.  He runs his other hand across her stomach, reaching for the lace on the other side.  His mouth ghosts a trail to follow his hand.  He nibbles her hip as it is freed of the fabric, and he slides the rest of the lace free of her body, down her legs, and off her feet.  He catches her feet again, kissing them.

He is tented in his own pants, ready, willing, bordering on desperate. 

Control.

Not yet.

He lays her legs out before him, marveling at the sight.

Disheveled.  Vulnerable.  Wonderful.

He creeps up on her body, covering hers with his, and takes her mouth possessively.  She runs her hands through his hair, along his shoulders, down is back.

She rolls him unexpectedly onto his back.  She straddles him.

Control.  She needs it too.

She removes the rest of her blouse, allowing her to remove her bra as well, flinging both out of the way.  He sighs appreciatively, laying his hands on both of her hips.  He grips her hard.  “Beautiful,” he rasps.

She smiles.  A predatory smile.  Leaning forward, she rips open his shirt, several buttons scattering away.  He pulses in his slacks.  She feels it and knows it was what he wanted.

She frees his shirt from his muscular chest, rolling it off of his shoulders and down to his elbows, but leaving it there.  She tightens it behind him, a silent order to stay.  Propped on his elbows, he obeys.

She leans into him, taking his mouth in a swift, possessive kiss.  She pulls away, and traces the line of his jaw, the same way he did to her.  Kissing, licking, nipping.

Down the side of his neck, and towards his throat.  He moans in appreciation.

She trails out to his shoulder, biting him.  He smiles as his breath hitches slightly.

Control, remember.

She licks a scar on his chest, a bad memory of a bust gone sour, but her attention makes a better memory of it now.  Scar tissue can be so sensitive.

She trails to his nipples, biting hard to start.  His eyes open wide, startled, then relax as she returns to kissing and sucking on them.  Damn, she is good.

As she lavishes the attention on his chest, her hands weave down to his slacks.  She has been feeling him within his pants this whole time, his erection pulsing through the fabric against her bare skin.  It has been driving her nuts, but she can play this game as well.

Control.

She is wet, as wet as she has even been, and she knows she’ll leave a wet spot on his pants after she removes them.

This makes her smile.  He’ll be less than perfect looking, rumpled and stained.  Perfect.

She unfastens his belt, followed by the button on his pants and the zipper.  She makes no move to remove his trapped erection from his pants.  He can wait in torment.

Backing off of him, she mirrors what he had done to her, grabbing his foot and removing his shoe and his sock.  She hates it when the socks stay on.  She nuzzles his foot with her nose, nibbling at his ankle.

Good lord, if she doesn’t do something else soon, he will explode!

Control, he thinks as he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, control.

The other foot is freed in the same manner as the first.  Her hands grab for the waistband of his pants, and slide both slacks and boxers off in one swift motion.  He is still propped up on his elbows, and looks at her as she gets that predatory look in her eye.  She crawls up on him like a cat.  Starting at his ankles, she licks his naked flesh, driving him crazy.  He twitches.

Control, dammit!

She continues her assault up his legs, and for a second, he thinks she is going to blow past him like he did to her.  _Jesus, please_ …

She stops right at him, licks his weeping crown, and looks up at him… humor in her eyes.

Who’s in control now?

He can barely contain himself, watching this woman climb his splayed body as slowly as she is. 

He sits up towards her, grabbing her face as she comes to meet him.  This kiss is desperate, hungry, needy.

He rolls her onto her back and puts her hands to the headboard, a silent command of ‘Keep those there’ clearly communicated.

He whips off his shirt, still tangled around his elbows.  Where it lands, he does not care.

He works his way down her body, biting and nipping, driving her to the peak of pleasure.

He spends extra time at her nipples.  She likes his work on her nipples. 

While he bites and pleases each nipple in turn, his hands find their way down her sides, to her core.  He spreads her legs, and delves his finger inside.  She is so wet, so ready.  With his right hand’s fingers inside, he brings his left hand up to her chest.  His head plays a trail of wet kisses on its way down to meet up with his fingers, his left hand kneading and twisting her over-sensitive nipples.

Her breathing is fast, her hips pulse up to meet him, to encourage him.

His tongue finds that special spot, that tiny nub, and he swirls around it.  He sucks on it.  She bucks as he does it, and his fingers continue to move deftly inside her, bringing her closer.  Closer.

She moans and pants, almost whines with need to complete.  He bites on her nub, and she is almost lost to the bliss.

Panting, she manages to mumble, “I’m close,” in a whisper.

He comes up and grabs her hips, pulling them up to meet his as he stays on his knees.  Without preamble, he thrusts into her, hard.  He stays there, not moving for a moment, seating himself and enjoying the hot wetness surrounding him.  She is panting heavily, head thrown back, so close he can taste it. 

Control.

Not too fast, he pulls out, then he slams back in.  Taking possession.  Mine.

“Oh God,” she manages, “Oh God… As hard as you can!!  Now!!”

Fuck control.

He thrusts for all he’s worth, driving her crazier and crazier, her head thrashing back and forth as she screams out her orgasm.  He pounds mercilessly into her, as she spends herself, her tightening muscles wrenching his screaming orgasm from him with equal fervor and intensity.  Riding the afterwave, he still pulses in her, holding her hips to his tightly as he slowly starts to come down.

Breathing heavily, he lay down on top of her, still inside her, and kisses her.  This is not the same kiss as earlier, that of need and desperation, but a kiss of a different type.  Relaxed.

He slowly withdraws from her and lay next to her on his side, watching her.  She has let go of the headboard, but her arms still rest above her head.  Her face is that of sated bliss, and he imagines he wears a similar look.  He ghosts his hand over her stomach as her breathing slows to normal.  His thumb drifts up and gently rolls her nipple.  She shudders, still sensitive.  He moves his hand down to her core, finding the nub he cared for so well earlier, and rubs his fingers over it.  She shudders, and pulls her feet up slightly. 

He smiles and laughs softly.

She looks at him.  “What?” she asks.

“Just making sure you were spent,” he replies.

She gently smacks him with the back of her hand, then smiles as she snuggles into him, and he wraps his arms around her.

They both sigh in turn as they start to fall asleep.

It’s all about control.

 

~end~


End file.
